Hate Her
by She Who Shines
Summary: Sometimes the only way not to love something you shouldn't is to hate everything you love about it. -Was an almost-Draco/Hermione-oneshot-if-you-squint, but people liked it so I contined and now it's a romance-
1. Hate Her

**Author's Notes:**** I suddenly came up with this idea half an hour ago, and this is the result. If you like it, maybe I'll continue. The name may change, just to warn you. I'm not a super big fan of Harry Potter, and it's been a while since I've read the books, so I apologize if they're out of character. But do read and review, if you can. Thanks for stopping by!**

I hate her. I hate every atom of her being. I hate her frizzy hair. I hate her muddy brown eyes. I hate the scornful tilt of her lips whenever she sees misfortune befall me. I hate her know-it-all-ness. I hate how insolent she is. I hate how insufferably bold she is. I hate how she smells like a muggy, rainy, thunderstorm. I hate her more than I could ever put to words, more than I could ever convey, more than anyone has hated anyone.

She looks like a cheesy cartoon tonight in a long, flowing gown. There's that twitch, that smile, hidden in the corner of her mouth, and everyone's staring at her. I don't understand it. She's sickly pale. Her hair is sculpted with spray. She looks like something pretend, something mock, something plastic from a fairytale. I don't know why no one can take their eyes off her. I just have to glare, and glare, and hope I can wipe that happy smirk off her face with shear force of will. Wipe it off, throw it to the dirt, trample on it, and make it never, ever come again.

Maybe I should say something nasty. Unfortunately, I know better than to anger that Krum fellow. Insulting his date would be a sure way to do that. Why he chose _her _I'll never know. She's sappy sweet. Her nose is stuck in a book half the time. She won't shut up, and is always pointing out things' flaws. She always _thinks _she has a solution for them, too. And she always says it.

I hate her so much, and I can't bare to see how much she's enjoying tonight. I can't even focus on Pansy. She keeps trying to catch my attention, and I throw her a smile or a glare intermittently, frown and nod as called for. But this is more important. There she goes, off dancing, twirling, smiling, laughing. Look at all the _fun _the tramp's having, swinging through his arms, gliding in the air, laughing. Watch her spring about, her tamed main of frizz and fluff falling from its slick hold. And I can't enjoy myself. I can't, and it's not fair. I can't so long as she's grinning so much. I can't so long as she's sliding through Krum's grip, having such a marvelous night while here I am, steaming for her glee. How dare she ruin tonight for me? How _dare _she?

"Draco?" Pansy asked. "Are you all right?"

"I'm perfectly fine, Pansy," I replied, somewhat exasperated. "I wish you would stop asking. That's the third time I've answered."

"You seems so distant."

"If you're so unhappy, find yourself another partner. I'm done."

"Draco, I didn't mean that – !"

"Well I did. Shoo."

I marched off before she had a chance to respond, grabbing some punch and trying to laugh as Longbottom stepped on his poor partner's toes.

Ha, ha, _ha_.

There go Weasley and Potter. There they go, talking to Granger... she'll just brighten up at their presence, be even happier, my dark enemy, and I'll be even more miserable, all alone at the punch table. I don't even have a dance partner, while she glows and glimmers in happiness. How _dare _she. She with her good grades – better than I, even, no matter how hard I try to beat her. It's not _fair._

But wait. She's not smiling anymore.

I hate her. I hate everything about her, the filthy little mud blood. I hate how she's so close with so many people, how tolerant she is. I hate her so much, but I didn't get any satisfaction as she sinks to the floor in tears. I smile at first, but it vanishes into cold emptiness. I'm still alone, and I'm still here at the punch table, and she's still her, and I hate her just as much. I threw my drink on the ground, scowling as I stalked off looking for Crab and Goyle, throwing her uneasy glances over my shoulder as I went. This wasn't any fun.


	2. Wit On Both Sides

**Author's Notes:**** I got a review and that inspired me to write more! I won't say I won't update without reviews, but just know that I write twice as fast when I get them. It's not on purpose; it's a psychological fact. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm not quite sure how to make this work, but... it'll come ;-) Thanks for stopping by! **

I don't think much about falling in love. A partner in crime might be nice, though. If I only had someone I could actually talk to – tell everything to, even the things I don't tell myself. I can't be open with my mother. She is bound to my father and Voldemort, and if she knew some of the doubts that filled my mind I don't know where I'd be now. My father is even worse. I can't show him my weakness; I am supposed to be a strong, brilliant, cool Malfoy. If he knew some of the terror and misery I feel I don't know where I'd be. Crab and Goyle are idiots. Good connections, but idiots, and would abandon me in a snap if they could get a cupcake out of it. I don't poor my heart out to people who wouldn't understand, or who could use it to their advantage.

So if I fell in love she'd have to ready to listen. However, I doubt I'd ever find someone I'd be willing to reveal anything to. She should smile easily (but not a scornful twist of the lip). She should be clever. She should stand up to authority and be brave (yet not insufferably so).

Insufferable. What a perfect adjective for this present moment, and this present obstacle.

"Watch where you're going, you filthy little mud blood!" I snarled after crashing into Granger. She glared up at me, gathering her books delicately. I crossed my arms and scowled, giving her a few seconds to apologize, and having fantasy of trampling all over her precious textbooks. She stood to her feet, her eyes practically blazing.

"I wasn't the one gazing into the great beyond, Malfoy," Granger bit back, pulling her books to her chest.

"With your ugly face so near I had to look _somewhere_."

Her cheeks turned tomato red as she glared at me, probably as much with anger as embarrassment. I felt my mouth curve into a satisfied smirk.

"Leave her alone, Malfoy," Potter growled. I almost jumped, but I suppose I should have known that nothing could separate the Dream Team.

"Hello, Potter," I sneered. Then I glanced around, noticing a serious lack of carrot red hair. "Where's the Weasel?"

"_Weasly_, Malfoy," Granger corrected vehemently, growing quite defensive. "_You're _the ferret."

I flinched. Being transfigured into such a lowly creature is _not _something one should joke about. _Ever_. It's one thing to make a plain statement of fact (and we all know what a dirty-blooded muggle-born Granger is). It's another to bring attention to a person's mutilation into something _lower_. There was that know-it-all-ness; she knew it would sting. She remembered it, kept it stored in that picture perfect brain of hers.

I recovered quickly. I didn't want to give her the satisfaction. But blast it, she'd noticed. There was that corner of her mouth, twitching, raising.

"At least that's _reversible,_" I countered coolly, trying to win back some ground here. "Weasley's parents couldn't fix their state of poverty if a sack of gold landed on their _heads_."

Potter leapt forwards, as if to attack me. I slid back a step, watching Granger grab his arms hold him still. I let out a laugh; he looked like a worm, wriggling in the sun.

"Leave it, Harry," Granger said soothingly. She knew how to handle the 'Chosen One's' temper. "Let's get out of here."

"Afraid, Potter?" I taunted as they turned. "Know I could beat you to a pulp if I wanted?"

The know-it-all slid an arm around Potter's shoulders to calm him, but I saw his fists clench. Somehow, though, my anger doubled, and I had to fight the urge to chase after them. "Not worth my time," I grumbled, stalking off towards Slytherin's house.

***

The GIT! The JERK! The spoiled, low, snake-like _SLYTHERIN!_ It's bad enough when he picks on me, but dragging Ron into this all is just sick. _He's _sick. Him and his sick white skin and sick pale hair and sick shallow eyes and his sick, smooth voice and sick grin. _SICK_! He should be put in a hospital and treated, and not even that could get rid of his sickness. He should be quarantined and we should be vaccinated before getting within one hundred feet of him and –

"Hermione? _Hermione?_" Harry called.

I startled out of my daze, meeting my dear friend's eyes.

"Oh. Sorry. What, Harry?" I asked.

"You're fingers are turning white from clutching the desk, and you've snapped your quill in two," he pointed out. I glanced down to my clenching fingers and laughed nervously.

"Oh. Right. Haha," I laughed nervously.

"You gonna tell me what wrong, Hermione, or do I have to guess?"

I felt my face crack into a warm smile.

"I'd like to see you try," I replied.

"Hmm... is it how mean Ron and I were to you about Krum?"

"I'd be glaring at _you, _then, Harry, not breaking my poor quill."

"Ah. Malfoy, then?"

"Mm," I growled in agreeance, letting my eyes flash terribly. "That low, twisted, _sick –_ "

Harry laughed.

"And I thought _I _was riled up! You certainly were brilliant back there, Mione, though. _Ferret_. Just brilliant."

"You think?" I smiled. He knew how to brighten my mood. Dear Harry... it was so nice having someone so like a brother, being an only child myself. I suppose I was the sister he never had, since he was as well, and he the brother I didn't. "Just because I don't rip him from limb to limb doesn't mean I don't _want _to, Harry. It's called _self restraint_. You are familiar with that term, are you not?"

"Hmm..." he mused thoughtfully. "Er, I don't think I am. Could you explain it to me, Hermione?"

"Look it up, dummy!" I laughed as Ron entered the classroom, other students pouring in.

"Harry, Hermione. What are you doing here so early?" he asked curiously, sitting beside us. Then he blinked, "And what are _you _doing in divination?"

I pursed my lips.

"Extra credit for a paper I'm writing. I needed information on divination, and this was the only way I could get it. Professor Trelawney said I could take this one lesson and get all the knowledge I need for my report," I explained, glaring at the table darkly.

"Poor table!" Ron laughed.

Harry nudged me,

"Look whose here, Mione," he said in a low voice, gesturing to the group of Slytherins entering. I sighed, that unmistakable head of platinum blonde hair practically glowing as he entered the room.

"Alright, Harry, I know I was frustrated earlier. But let's get over it."

_Sick, twisted, sick, evil, sick, impudent - !_

I took in a deep breath. I really needed to keep him from getting under my skin. The problem was that he had so much potential – he was, beyond doubt, a _good _wizard, even if he was evil. He was second in potions next to me, and high up in almost everything else. He was clever, quick on his feet, and even I had to admit that he had a brilliant wit. The problem was that he used his wit to insult and _hurt. _He used his quickness to antagonize. He used his grades as something to brag about, and made it a competition rather than a learning experience. He could do so much for the world, but instead he decided to be a scourge of darkness and cruelty. I had a hard time not hating him for that.

He saw me watching him and sneered as he sat. I twisted my face in disgust and turned from him abruptly, anger welling up inside. I took in another breath.

"Hello, students!" Professor Trelawney chimed in her shaky, slightly crazy voice. "Today, we shall be predicting one another's path in the life of one of our fellow classmates."

I felt slightly annoyed. _She _wouldn't. _She _didn't have fellow classmates. 'Our' wasn't exactly the right word at this point. I clenched my teeth and bit my tongue to keep from pointing it out.

"So I have paired each of you up with another student to predict with," she called. I tensed, knowing that teacher made pairings never worked out will. "I will call your names, then. Mr. Potter, you are paired with Mr. Weasley."

Harry and Ron high-fived and I sighed in relief. Maybe this _would _work out.

"Mr. Goyle, you are paired with Ginny Weasley."

I mentally groaned. This wasn't going to work at all.

***

Professor Trelawney took in a long, deep breath. I already saw it coming. We were the last two unpaired people in the room, Granger and I, but that didn't make it any less painful when she called out –

"...And Mr. Malfoy, you are paired with Miss. Granger."

Slowly, very slowly, our heads pivoted on our necks and our eyes met darkly. On our faces were looks of shear horror and disgust. Yes, the disgust was directed at the other, but in that one second, there was a flash of companionship, of – no, of _oh dear we're both in the same boat I know how you feel, you disgusting piece of slime and ball of filth._ We nodded at one another in understanding, then turned cold, glared, and stood to our feet, protesting as one.

"Never will I mix with such a low life!" I snarled.

"I'd rather kiss an octopus!" Granger called angrily. Then she took in a deep, long breath. "I mean, Professor Trelawney, if Mr. Malfoy and I are paired together, there will very soon be two corpses decorating the Hogwarts floor. If we could only swap with someone else, class will go much more smoothly."

The professor adjusted her glasses.

"Oh, really...?" she mumbled, glancing at her notes, shuffling through her papers, and tapping her crystal ball one after the other. I shifted grouchily, crossing my arms and almost huffing. But I refrained. At long last she stood tall and smiled warmly. "It'll only be for a few minutes. And I'm certain that no one else wants to give up their partner."

Several people called 'I DO!' desperately, and so many hands shot up. But Professor Trelawney ignored them.

"But, Miss Trelawney – " Granger begged, leaning forwards in shear horror.

"Professor, I _refuse _to do this," I stated, wrinkling my face with an annoyed scowl and glancing up and down the mudblood condescendingly. Her muddy brown eyes, her frizzy hair. Her lips in a firm, straight line. I knew this expression on her face just as well as every other, damn them. I hated this one almost as much as her twisted smirk.

"Then you both may leave," the Professor answered.

"What about our grades?" Granger asked apprehensively, and I couldn't help but laughed. That's all she really cared about, wasn't it? Grades, books, and weasley potters. She was so shallow. Of course, all Pansy cared about was gossip, flowers, and make-up. But I wasn't about to admit that at the very moment. Instead, I set about cleaning the underneath of my nails idly, attempting to keep the look of disgust threatening to show at bay (most unsuccessfully) as I sat.

"You will fail this class," Professor Trelawney answered with a huge, crazy smile. Granger closed her eyes and held very, very still. At last, she nodded, and sat in her seat.

"Would you join her, Mr. Malfoy?" the professor asked.

I held back a snarl and stood to my feet, sliding the wooden chair back as I did so and stalked up beside her, sitting down as far away as I could. Immediately, the smell of a midnight thunderstorm filled my nose. Wet rain pounding on clear grass, in the middle of spring. I wished I could drown it out, but didn't know how. Potter got up and glared at me as he sat beside Weasley; both might as well have been throwing daggers at me, they're expressions were so hostile.

"Alright, then, students," the Professor started as she slowly began to explain what we were about to do. I listened to the best of my ability, but kept getting distracted. Granger was whispering whatever the teacher said silently, her lips shifting over each word as her eyes stayed glued forwards. I couldn't help but watch in the corner of my eye as she put all her attention on our instructor, practically memorizing the process. She always did this to me, damn her. I couldn't pay attention to anything else, I hated her so much.

At last, Granger nodded, and Professor Trelawney grew silent. A hum of voices filled the room as students started their work.

"Alright," the mudblood said, not making eye contact as she took the clay on the desk before us and began kneeding it through her fingers. "You boil the holy water."

"Who put you in charge, you – "

"Filthy little mudblood, yes, I know," she cut me off. "Just _do _it, won't you? Or do you _want _to fail this class?"

"I don't take orders from – "  
She took the clump of clay and slammed it into the desk before looking up at me darkly.

"Malfoy, I don't want to do this anymore than you do. But the sooner we start the sooner it's done. If you want, you can kneed the clay and I can boil the water, or whatever. But let's just _do it_."

I pursed my lips and grabbed the clay roughly, if only to disrupt her original plan. I imagined her face sculpted into the front of it, and smirked as I beat and mashed it.

"Kneeding me, Malfoy?" she laughed as the water started boiling.

"Me?" I asked incredulously, "need _you?_"

"No, _kneeding, _not _needing_. You look like your brutally murdering it, is all, and that's just how I'd look if the clay were you."

"You shouldn't compare yourself to me," I replied idly. "It'll only depress you."

"Because humanity was able create something so low?"

"Because you'll never be half as pretty as I am, Granger," I looked up and sneered at her, and she shook her head, her upper lip curling.

"You are the vainest, most egotistical – " she started, her voice growing more and more angry.

"At least _I _have reason to be. It's no wonder you have no confidence; you're smart enough to know that you don't deserve it."

She took the boiling, scalding hot holy water and for half a second I was certain she about to dump it on my head. Fear must have flashed over my face, as her lip curled and twitched as it did when she felt triumphant. Granger ripped the clay from my fingers and dropped it into the water with a distinct _plop_. Her hands were warm and soft, like moist, rich dirt, the kind best for planting with and heavy in nutrients. No, it was no surprise that she was a mudblood. Everything about her screamed it.

She grabbed the scissors, looking a little insane as she flicked them open and closed. She glanced at me, and smirked from between the blades. I raised my brows antagonistically – _Try me. Just try, _I thought. _I'll let your dirty blood spill to the floor where it belongs faster than you could blink._

Granger snipped off a lock of hair, adding it to the mix and passing me the sheers.

"You're up, Malfoy," she said. I wrinkled my nose.

"I'm supposed to mix a bit of me with _you?_"

"Yes," she replied simply.

I pursed my lips and snipped off a little bit of my pale blonde hair before throwing it into the mix. The water bubbled and frothed, the clay changing from tan to pale, pale white.

"You might want to lean back, Malfoy," Granger suggested idly, flipping through her textbook.

"And why should I do that?" I asked, watching it closely.

I could feel her smirking. I could _feel _it. I whirled around to ask her what was so funny when red hot flames burst from the top of the caldron. Good thing I'd leaned away.

"Why'd you warn me, _Granger?_" I growled. "Wouldn't you love to see me scorched?"

"Honestly," she replied, "I thought you'd do the opposite of whatever I said."

"So you do have some degree of intelligence," I scoffed.  
"Mmhmm..." Granger mumbled idly, barely paying any attention to me. At that second I wanted to do something terrible, something awful – anything to catch her attention. But I doubted that anything good would come of that, and I simply crossed my arms grouchily and sat once again. She was chewing her lower lip thoughtfully as we waited in silence, slowly and reverently flipping the pages as her eyes flicked back forth almost hypnotically. If she could just leave that lower lip of hers _alone _I wouldn't hate her half as much. She drives me crazy when she does that. It makes me feel so agitated and infuriated and other strong, negative emotions.

At last the water began to sizzle at an astonishing rate, until there was nothing left but hard, rocky, and pale clay.

"Ah!" Professor Trelawney called happily. "Our first two are done!" She reached inside the caldron, pulled out the brick, and broke it in two. "Ah... oh... my, my..."

"What?" Granger and I asked, leaning forwards slightly in our seats. We glanced at one another in surprise, then wrinkled out noses and looked back at the professor.


	3. He Had It Coming

**Author's Notes: It's so nice to get so many positive reviews! Keep 'em coming, please, because they keep me going. I now have some vague idea of where this story is going to go, so that's a real relief! I hope you enjoy this chapter as much (or more!) than the others, and thanks for reading!**

"You both have within your brick," Professor Trelawney began, her voice slowly growing louder and quavering more and more with each word, "the twining thread."

"The twining _what?_" Malfoy asked, his nose wrinkling.

"The twining thread," Professor Trelawney repeated, brushing her fingers on the uneven edge where the brick snapped in two. "This symbol foretells that your lives will be bound together in bonds of great hate." She squinted, "Our is it love?" The Professor looked up at us helplessly, "I can't tell. One or the other. I'm certain you'll understand it someday."

I burst out laughing, unable to hold it in. Everyone in the classroom stared at me as I tried to choke back my hysteria, but it kept bubbling up and exploding out in gasps and giggles.

"I wonder…" I managed, "…which it is!"

"There really isn't a question, is there? I doubt anyone could come to love _you, _Granger," he said simply, looking me up and down disdainfully. For once, I completely ignored him, and I think that got on his nerves. It wasn't really on purpose, though. I would have come up with some snide remark if I hadn't been laughing so hard.

"I would have my students be polite, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Trelawney chastised.

At last I regained control and coughed nervously. Ron raised a hand tentatively.

"Um, we're done, Professor…" he mentioned.

"Oh?" Professor Trelawney replied, before crossing the room and snapping _their_ brick in two. I grabbed my brick, examining it closely before taking a few notes.

"You can have the other half if you like. It's yours, two," I suggested idly, glancing up at the object then back down at my book. I could see the sneer on his face in my mind before he had a chance to twitch his lips. "On the other hand, anything my mudblood hands have touched must be tainted, so you probably want nothing to do with it. Just as well. It might be nice to study the full brick."

Sneer turned to scowl, and the left corner of my lips curled as I continued to write my notes. He was probably deciding whether or not to take it anyway, just to annoy me. Honestly, I couldn't care less, but watching him search frantically for the thing that would irritate me the most out of the corner of my eye was just priceless.

_Sick git._

***

I remember in third year when she punched me. Who had the gall to punch me? Apparently she did. And I hated to admit it, but it was a really _good _punch, too. It'd hurt. Really, really badly. I couldn't help but laugh at it the thought of it. Me, Malfoy and pureblood, held at wandpoint by _Hermione Granger _and shaking in my boots. And then she punched me, just when I thought I was off the hook. Ever since then her attitude towards me has been different; like I was just an annoying insect she could flick off and ignore. It was getting increasingly harder to antagonize her, and it was near impossible to hurt her anymore. That infuriated me. Not to mention how I keep finding myself comparing everyone I know to her, and her to everyone I know. Why I even bother I don't know, but it's like a subconscious program that I can't turn off and keep reverting back to. But the problem was that now she felt in charge and unvulnerable around me and it put me in a foul mood.

She was smirking. I _hate _that smirk.

"If you'd given me a chance to _talk,_" I spat, "I'd have told that I'd very much like my half of the brick."

I snatched it up into my hand, and she raised a brow.

"All yours."

"Oh, Mr. Malfoy, Miss. Granger?" Professor Trelawney called. Our heads snapped up in surprise, gazing up at our instructor expectantly. "That will be all for tonight. You are excused."

Granger and I stood as one, but I was halfway down the steps before she made it to the door. It took the muggleborn so long to lift her books and bookmark the pages and stagger towards the arch under their weight. She was probably waiting for Potter and the Weasel anyhow.

Down the spiral staircase I stepped, stopping at the window over looking Hogwarts' Grounds. It really was a lovely sight, and I found myself leaning on the sill for far longer than I intended to.

"Sorry, Hermione, but I don't have a bucket for you to throw up in," I heard Weasley joke laughingly. They must have caught up to her. "How was being partners with that insufferable git?"

I almost laughed. So they used 'insufferable' on me as well. Lovely adjective, that word. I slid up on the sill of the window and crossed my arms curiously, sneering as I waited for them to round the bend. Listening in on others' conversations was almost always fun, and you never knew just what you could learn.

"Perfectly _awful!_" Granger called with a laugh.

_You're one to talk, _I thought dryly.

"He was rude, and blunt, and... well, it doesn't really matter . A school bully isn't someone we should waste our time on," she amended at the end. "There are more interesting things to talk about."

I felt myself grow angrier, if that was possible. So I wasn't _interesting? _At the very _least _I should be _interesting! _I mean honestly, here I am, a clever, witty, drop-dead gorgeous wizard with a dark, mysterious past. An insufferable, egotistical git, _maybe, _but _uninteresting?!_  
"And more important things, too... How about the tournament, Harry? How's your luck with that?"

"I don't know what to think," I heard him say. "I don't know what to do, or what to expect... I wouldn't tell anyone else," their voices were approaching, "but I'm afraid. This is a very, very dangerous game. And..."

"It's all right, Harry." Granger again, speaking softly as they rounded the corner and she slid an arm over his shoulders. I slid off the sill, hitting the stone steps hard in a controlled crouch, fighting the terrible urge to growl that doubled as he rested his head on her shoulder.

"So poor little Potter's afraid the tournament will do away with him?"

"Oh, give it a rest, Malfoy!" the Weasel called. "What are you doing listening in on other peoples' conversations anyway?"

"People?" I asked. "I don't see people. I see a famous show off, a penniless blood traitor, and the one thing worse than that."

Potter glared at me darkly.

"Malfoy – " he growled.

"Harry, don't let him get to you – " Granger tried.

"Hermione," Ron interrupted, keeping his eyes locked on me. I folded my arms cockily, smirking. "Hermione, I really think he's asking for it."

"What, Weasel? Just _what _am I _asking _for? I think I'm only making a plain statement of fact or two."

"_Fact?!_" Potter called. "It's sounds like a lot of poorly conceived and uncreative _insults _to me."

"Insults?" I blinked innocently. "I'd say kind things about you all if I could, I really would, but my parents taught me not to lie."

"Like you 'didn't lie' to Rita Skeeter?!" Granger called angrily.

I felt so triumphant, and my face must have lit up light a muggle lightbulb as I grinned. I'd gotten a rise out of her – I'd gotten her attention, stirred feelings. _At last_.

"When did this 'not lie' lesson come about? Along with Death Eater 1-0-1?" Potter mocked.

"Oh, you know, about the same time all parents give their life lessons," I drawled, picking at my nails idly. "But you haven't had much experience with that, have you? You're parents are gone off to the great beyond. Shame, isn't it? They might have taught you some bravery, Mr. _I'm Afraid_."

I regretted those words later. Not for any psychological hurt they might have brought; no, for the physical suffering about to follow. Potter leapt, like a cat on a mouse as he sprung in a clear, well calculated ark and landed atop me. He knocked me backwards down the staircase, and we tumbled freely, feeling step after step jab into our backs and bones as he threw punch after punch.

"_HARRY!_" I heard Granger called, but it barely registered. I was frantically reaching for my wand as the world tumbled and spiraled around me. I felt my skin break and blood flow.

"Give – it – up – Potter," I managed as we fell. I got his jaw with a punch, but he had me at an extreme disadvantage.

"Take – it – back," he growled.

"Not – on – your – life."

My lip split, and I felt my jaw snap as his coiled tight fist hit just where it met my neck, sliding the bone back and to the side most painfully. That's the last thing I remember, because the famous, show off Potter had beat me unconscious in front of Granger. Out of all the people in the world, _Granger._

_How._

_Bloody._

_Wonderful._


	4. Sharp Tongues

**Author's Notes:**** Awww...! No one reviewed my last chapter :-( Please, I have to know that people are reading and enjoying this if I'm going to update and continue! So, just drop by and tell me what you think. Suggestions are always welcome, and I really do listen. So thanks for reading, if you are, and please review! Hope you enjoy this chapter - lots of back and forth bantering between H and D. Let me know if I'm moving too fast.**

About then is when I heard the muttering.

"Stupid, touchy, uncontrollable, _idiots..._"

Every inch of me ached most horribly, my eyes, my jaw, my lip – and by golly, the stairs had split open my head, too. Blood was gushing down my face and mixing with my hair. Just _lovely_. I groaned, attempting to stretch out my stiff, soar limbs.

"Oh, lay off it, Malfoy," Granger snapped.

My eyes fluttered open to find the mudblood sitting at the bottom of the steps, chin held up on her fist as she glared at nothingess, and myself sprawled none to far away on the hard, stone ground. My head was spinning and I felt horrible. I sat up abruptly, then slammed back down into the ground when my pain doubled and I realized how _stupid _of me that was.

"Lay off it? I'm dying!" I protested.

"You didn't even break a bone," she bit back grouchily. "Now suck it up and be a man for once in your life."

"When my father hears about _this –_ " I started.

Granger took in a long, deep breath.

"Look, Malfoy," she said, almost amiably, but frustration did show. I don't think it was directed at me, though. Her eyes flicked back and forth desperately, as she tried to find the words.

"What, Granger?" I snapped back.

"Please, if you could just..." she trailed off. "Well, it's just that..." She pursed her lips angrily, still trying to find the words, "I think it'd be most advantageous for both our sides because..." Finally she slammed her forehead. "Just don't tell anyone."

I laughed hoarsely, immediately regretting it as my splitting headache doubled.

"Do you honestly expect me to keep quiet about my attempted _murder?_"

"Harry wouldn't have hurt you!" she called angrily. Here I couldn't hold it in, and rolled onto my side as I laughed. "I mean, he didn't _mean _to – " She seemed to realize how crazy what she was saying because her eyes cast down and to the left. It hurt so terribly, laughing – my mouth and jaw ached as it stuck open, but I couldn't help it. So _**Potter **__didn't want to hurt me?_ Granger shook her head, actually laughing herself. "No, he'd meant to give you a great big bear hug," she called with a huge grin.

"Than why," I managed through my manic grin and gasping lungs, "was – he – punching me?"

"He thought – that there – was food on – your face."

"I suppose – I must – _apologize _for – making such – false assumptions."

She pressed her hands to the sides of her face, lying back on the stairs behind her for support as tears streamed down her pale face. I only laughed harder when I realized what was going on – here I was, rolling on the cold, stone floor, laughing and crying with _Hermione Granger, _who's best friend had just beat the crap out of me. But she had a nice laugh; very light and warm, like hot wind on a cold day. It was one of those laughs that made you just have to laugh along with it (not that I wasn't in stitches already).

Granger nodded emphatically.

"Yes, you must."

"But I'll be sure to wash my face beforehand."

"Yes, it wouldn't do to have him try to clean it again."

I rolled over again at that remark. Right into the first step of the staircase up the tower, bashing my bleeding head into the hard stone. I called out in agony, pulling my knees to my chest and clenching my fists as I gritted my teeth. I waited for Granger's laughter to double. It took approximately half a second. But then she surprised me by shoving me over by my shoulder, calming her giggles. I would have protested at her touching me, but I was focusing on not screaming like a girl in front of her.

"Alright, Malfoy," she said.

She was chewing her lip again, darn her. I could barely see her, my sight so blurry with the tears of pain I wouldn't let passed my lids. She started to pull out her wand, but I caught her wrist.

"Stay back, mudblood," I grunted. "Don't you curse off my nose."

"I was _going _to heal you," Granger bit back.

"'Course you were."

She sighed crabbily, wrenching her arm back angrily.

"You know, I was starting to think that every last atom of your being wasn't all bad, Draco," the young witch said, crossing her arms in agitation.

"_I _was bred to perfection, Granger, and – _ARGH! STUPID BRUISE – ARGH!_"

She raised a brow.

"Are you _sure _that you don't want me – "

"_YES!_" I yelled, pulling my legs up closer. I gritted my teeth. "Where's _Potter_, Granger?" I managed. She opened her mouth to protest, but I cut her off; "I think I have a right to know what took place while I was unconscious from your best friend beating me up."

"You really _were _asking for it, Malfoy," she answered coldly. "Harry is very touchy about it parents."

"I noticed," I grunted.

Granger sighed, leaning back against the steps.

"Harry and Ron left. I stayed to make sure you woke up at all."

"_Didn't _wake up at all, you mean."

"Then I did a pretty bad job, Malfoy. You're awake, and despite your whining, perfectly alive."

I managed to smile through the pain, eyes skewed tied-shut.

"I wasn't being serious."

Granger let out a long breath again.

"Look, Malfoy, if Harry gets in trouble for all this he might not compete in the final round of the Triwizard Tournament."

"What do I care?"

"Well, for one thing, if he _did _compete, there's a very good chance that he'd get himself killed, and – "

"No more words, Granger," I mumbled. "I'm silent as the grave."

Suddenly her face changed, as she just realized what had happened.

"Wait a second here. If Harry got in trouble for breaking every bone in your body..." her eyes flicked left and right, and she stood, grabbing my arm and dragging me up. I howled in pain, trying to shove her off me as we started down the hall.

"Let go of me, you filthy little mudblood!" I called angrily.

She obliged, and I promptly crumpled to the floor. Not voluntarily, I assure you.

"I was taking you to Madam Pomfrey," Granger answered, crossing her arms in agitation.

"Go ahead and stitch me up yourself. I don't want to have to explain how this happened. And if anyone hears Potter reduced me to this I'll hex you to tomorrow."

"You can try all you want, Malfoy," she answered. "I'd curse you to a bloody pulp. But that's not the point; I've got to turn in Harry so he won't get himself killed in the third challenge."

I grinned through clenched eyes.

"So you don't _want _me to keep quiet?" She glared, seeing what was coming. "Then there's even more reason to. Now get this over with. I'm going to pass out again if you don't fix me quickly."

Her lip twisted into a malevolent smirk as she folded her arms.

"Even more reason not to."

"Granger..." I replied in a low voice, pressing my back up against the wall and sliding up it until I was standing. "Just get it over with."

She pursed her lips and pulled out her wand, uttering the spell with perfect pronunciation and some of the most accurate wand movements I've seen. She's such a perfectionist.

I felt my skin knit together, my bruises unswelling and dispersing throughout my arms and under my skin. I sighed in relief as the pain fell, lowered, and dissolved out of existence. I let my head sink back into the wall, smiling in alleviation.

"Not even a thank you? So _typical,_" she observed dryly.

"It's _your _fault, Granger," I replied. "Why should I thank you for fixing your own mistakes?"

"You're the one who pushed Harry over the edge. I wasn't even the one who tackled you, Malfoy," she pointed out in exasperation.

"I wouldn't have been so antagonistic if you'd gotten riled up earlier."

Granger blinked.

"So it's my fault that you got beat up because I kept a cool head which made you become really nasty to make me lose my composure and therefore hurt Harry which made him angry enough to beat you to a bloody pulp?" I glared at her, crossing my arms coldly. She shook her head and laughed. "That's about the craziest thing I've ever heard, Malfoy."

"_Really?_" I spat, lacking any better come back.

"Yes, really," she answered. "My, you're an impossible git."

"And you're an insufferable little know-it-all," I sneered, spinning on my heel and stalking off.

I hate her. I hate, hate, _hate _her.

Why does she have to be so damn clever?

And I still can't get the smell of rain out of my nose.


	5. Dominoes

**Author's Notes:**** Okay, so the first part is lame. I've been trying to get it right for so long, but I can't. So I'm posting it anyway. Perhaps the story would make more sense if it wasn't even there. Oh well. You can pretend I never posted it after you read it, if you like. But here you go - the next bit! Enjoy, and pretty, pretty please review with requests, suggestions, and - most importantly - your thoughts!**

I often find myself greatly worried about Harry. He has been through so much, and all this danger can't be good for a growing boy. So many times I wish I could take all his misery and sweep it all away – bundle it up and throw it out a window so he could live in piece. I feel like a mother, an older sister to the thick-headed, stupidly brave, and eternally loyal boy. I love him so much, but right now, I am _furious._

"What were you _thinking, _Harry?" I called in confusion and anger. "You could have killed him!"

He had his arms crossed and was scowling, almost reminding me of the boy he so hated.

"He called me a coward, Hermione! After all I've been through, after all I've lost, he called me a – "

I grabbed his arm, meeting his eyes sternly.

"Harry, listen to me. He's a jerk. He says things to mess with you, and he knows what will. Every time you let it bother you, you're letting him win. Not to mention that he's only ever used _words _against you, Harry. Has he once hurt you physically? What you did was unnecessary and stupid. You could have seriously hurt yourself as well."

"Well, _I _thought it was bloody brilliant," Ron put in, plopping down beside us on the Gryffendor benches of the dining hall. Harry and he exchanged a grin.

I could have strangled him.

"I _was _getting somewhere until _you _came, Ron," I chastised in frustration.

"Which is exactly why I did. I'd _pay _to see Malfoy beaten to a bloody pulp; I'm not having someone discourage it happening for _free_."

"Can't afford to lose the pennies, Weasely?"

_Speak of the devil... _I thought dryly, sighing as I turned in my seat. Low and behold, there stood the blond boy, pale and gloating as always with arms folded cockily.

"Actually, everyone hates you so much that I could have you _assassinated _for an old candy wrapper, so I'm not worrying about that," Ron growled.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Harry asked darkly, his voice dangerously calm. I rolled my eyes and continued eating.

"I'm here to apologize for mistaking your intentions earlier. Bear hugs can easily be confused with murder."

I choked on my soup, trying not to laugh. Harry and Ron blinked in confusion. He wasn't seriously –

I looked up, trying to hold back my grin as I examined Malfoy curiously. He was sneering, but as his eyes flicked to me for half a second his expression shifted into an amused smirk.

"What? Really?" Harry sputtered, unable to find any other words or really think at all.

"Nope," Malfoy replied. "I'm lying." He turned on his heel, letting his robe swoosh as he started for the Slytherin table (he must have been getting lessons from Professor Snape).

"I thought you didn't lie!" Harry called after him.

"I lied then, too," Malfoy replied with a quick glance over his shoulder.

I allowed my lips to twitch, and I know he saw. But blast it, I don't even care. He was a _funny _git.

***

So I got a few odd glances. It was worth it. I've been trying to catch her attention for so long now – and now I know how. I saw her silent laughter. I saw how _I'd _made her smirk. Now I know that if my insults are witty enough she simply can't ignore me. It had been a mere theory, but now I have it confirmed. I simply hate being ignored. It's almost worse than being stuck with _her _for a divination partner.

"Draco!" Pansy called with a sweet smile. "What do you think?"

I glanced her up and down, not noticing anything new.  
"What?" I asked.

"The _lipstick, _of course. See, I thought this shade accented my eyes."

I pursed my lips. How was I supposed to know? I'm a guy, for goodness' sake.

"Why don't you try green?" I suggested.

She looked at me as if I were some kind of frog

"_Green lipstick, _Draco?"

I shrugged helplessly.

"It's a Slytherin color. Why not?"

I just didn't know when it came to this sort of thing. Pansy rolled her eyes.

"But do you like it or not, is the main thing, Draco Malfoy. Yes or no?"

"There's nothing _wrong _with it..."

She grinned.

"Just lovely, then. I like it, too. Now, what about my shoes?"

I glanced down at her feet disdainfully, glaring at her expensive black boots.

"Pansy, there's nothing I'd _love _more than to discuss fashion with you," I started, backing away towards the common room door. "But I'm supposed to be somewhere."

"I'll go with you!" she replied, clapping excitedly.

I smirked, crossing my arms.

"You want to practice quidditch with me?"

Pansy paled. There was an awkward – on her end, at least; I looked cool as ice – silence.

"I think I'll go talk with Millicent," she said at last, backing away before turning and running. I shook my head and smirked as I left, heading down the hall, up the stairs and out of the dungeon.

Where to go, then? I knew for a fact that Potter would be practicing in the quidditch pitch, and if there was one person that I _didn't _want to run into at the moment it was him. I couldn't stay in the Slytherin common room or Pansy would think I was just trying to get rid of her (I was, but I didn't want her to know that). I did _not _feel like studying – I'd spent a lot of time on that this morning and was, quite frankly, sick of it – but there was that one book about the link between curses and divination (yes, I know, it's_ crazy_, but that's why I want it; I'm trying to figure out just WHAT it could possibly say) that I've been wanting to get a hold of for a _long _time. I sighed; the library it was, then.

The halls of Hogwarts shifted around me, and it took a good ten minutes for me to find my way there. It was deathly quiet, as usual. A few students peppered the library, studying, reading, and/or taking notes. Madam Pince stood at her desk, flipping through one ledger or another. I slipped in between the shelves to avoid her; she'd taken a disliking to me from day one, and I really didn't want to get thrown out of the library before I had a chance to get a hold of my book. Passing by the shelves I scanned the titles intently, furrowing my brow in thought. Where _was _it?

At last I found the one I was looking for and smirked in triumph. It was the last copy there, too. I out reached to to grab it, wrapping my fingers around the covers and pulling. But it didn't budge.

My brow furrowed, and I tugged harder. It took me approximately three seconds to realize that someone was on the other side of the shelf, attempting to grab the book as well. I pulled harder, putting my back into it. No way was I losing this book.

Whoever it was on the other side was determined, though, and just as strong as I was. I bent down in confusion, glancing past the side of the book to see _who it was _while I clung to the covers. I was more than surprised to see Granger doing exactly the same thing on the other side, staring back at me in shock.

"I believe I got this book first, Granger," I growled once my mind finally caught up to what I was seeing.

"I need it for a paper, Malfoy," she replied with much hostility. "It's the last copy here and I've been waiting forever for it. Besides, you grabbed it at exactly the same time I did, not before as you so claim."

"Not true! I had it first," I protested.

"If you _did,_" she hissed, pulling on the book again, "then you'd be holding the damn book right now – not playing tug-o'-war with me, of all people!"

"Give it up, Granger!" I grunted angrily when I couldn't think of a comeback.

"Not on your life, Malfoy!"

"I _need it,_" I growled as I tugged on it.

"_I _need it," she replied, her voice strained as she pulled.

"Get a different one!"

"_You _get a different one!" Granger bit back.

"_What _exactly is going on here?" a stern, _angry _voice said. I looked over my shoulder and would have paled, if my face wasn't already chronically so.

"Madam Pince," I replied as respectfully as I could while pulling on a book. "I came here for this book and Granger is trying to rip it out of my hands."

"Not – true!" she managed angrily, pulling harder. Madam Pince looked horrified as she gazed at what we were doing to one of her precious possessions.

"Put it down, now, both of you!" she demanded.

"Go on, Granger!" I called. "Let go of the book."

"Not – on – your – life," she grunted back. "You let go."

I could tell from her voice that she was growing weary. I smirked; just a few more seconds, and I could wrench it from her waning hands.

"Now! Both of you!" Madam Pince demanded. "If you let go now I'll let you off with a warning!"

But neither of us were paying any attention. Granger was getting exhausted, throwing her entire body weight into pulling the book back. I was too busy feeling her weaken, delighting in the fact that triumph was so near and knowing that no matter how much harder she tried her grip was waning. It wasn't even about getting the book anymore. It was about getting what _she _wanted – it was about _defeating _her.

"Come on, Granger – too proud to let go of a silly book?"

"If – it's – so – silly – why – don't – _you _let – _GO!_"

"Put the book down _NOW!_" Madam Pince shrieked. "_Right now!_"  
"Because I don't plan on setting it up on an alter and worshiping it," I bit back.

I heard Granger snarl (causing a burst of triumph to fill me), and her previously ebbing strength doubled. I was caught off guard and ripped back at the book. There was a terrible, horrible, _wrenching _– a snapping, a crinkling, a _ripping_ – as the book came in two. Both the mudblood and myself flew back into the book shelves and knocked them over into the next, and the next, and the next. Dust kicked up in the air as the old books fell open, and the room filled with sneezes.

I'd ended up under a pile of books and dust, and as I pulled myself upwards I saw Granger in pretty much the same state. But for once I wasn't paying her any mind. I was looking up at Madam Pince, looming over us with her arms crossed. She looked like she was about to explode, her face red with anger.

I glanced at Granger, and in the one moment there was peace as we both shared the same thought.

_Uh-oh_.

Then it was war again.

"It was_ her _fault!" I called, pointing at her accusingly at exactly the same time she called,

"It was_ his _fault!"

"DETENTION!!!" Madam Pince screeched.


	6. Thank You

**Author's Notes:**** Sorry it's taken me so long to update! I've been a bit stuck... Anyhow, here's a long one for you to make up for it. Review, because it makes me happy.**

"_Granger,_" he growled, glaring at me.

"_Malfoy,_" I growled back, dropping the bucket in my right hand (letting it slosh and spill some of its contents as it hit the floor) as we faced off. I couldn't help but compare our current positions to wild west movies, just before someone shouts _DRAW! _and someone shoots first – and someone drops _dead_. I almost smirked at the mental image of a bloody Malfoy sprawled listlessly across the reddening stone...

"Happy now, mudblood?" he spat, his face wrinkling in disgust as he glanced me up and down condescendingly. "Now we're stuck together, scrubbing the potions classroom floor. Did you want to read the bloody book that much?"

"Did _you, _Malfoy? If you'd just let _go _we wouldn't be in this mess!" I countered angrily.

"The same thing could be said about _you._"

We glared at one another in stone cold silence. His lips were curled in a terrible snarl, his arms crossed angrily and his eyes locked with mine in a terrible war. I could _feel _the anger pouring out of him. I probably looked like I was steaming myself. I _was _steaming. His gray eyes, like a storm of thunder and lightning – I could feel them crashing and thrashing. It was a war, and I doubt either of us was breathing properly as we glared and stood there, still as stone. We might as well have been petrified.

This couldn't go on forever. We had to end it. But it felt wrong to look away – like admitting defeat, like ending a silence that had stretched so long that it was part of you, like hitting a child asking for chocolate with a sweet smile. You just _didn't do it_.

At last, I sighed, looking away and breaking the lock of our eyes. I could almost hear the snap, and I felt so disoriented – but I had to get this over and done with. So I kneeled to the ground and drenched my sponge in the soapy water with rugged determination.

"What are you doing, Granger?" he asked, his cool voice tinged with shakiness. Only tinged.

"The floors aren't going to wash themselves, Malfoy," I replied, squeezing out the excess water and starting to press it into the stone, back and forth, over and over.

He shakily sat down beside me and held the sponge by its very corner with a look of disgust plastered on his pale face. He dropped it into the bucket like one would drop an anchovy into a running blender – disgust mixed with fear, and done as quickly as humanly possible. His nose was wrinkled terribly, and I couldn't help but think that he looked rather silly like that.

"When my father hears about this..." he grumbled under his breath, pulling the sponge from the water in disgust as he started scrubbing. Well, it was the most pathetic excuse for scrubbing that I've ever seen, but I have to call it something.

"Malfoy, you're not going to get anywhere like that. The sooner we get this done the sooner we can get _out _of here."

"It's not even like we're doing anything useful!" he growled in frustration, but for once it wasn't directed at me. His glare was clearly fixed on the soapy bucket. "I could clean this bloody floor in two seconds flat with my wand."

I nodded in agreement.

"I know. That's what bugs me most about all this. I'm doing hard work for something that isn't even productive. It'd be one thing if doing all this work actually helped someone, or made some sort of difference, but this is just pointless. There's no reason for it."

"Not to mention that next time I'm in potions class," Malfoy complained, "I'll keep flinching whenever anyone spills anything on the floor and get it messy again."

I knew where he was coming from and gave him an understanding nod.

"Maybe I should write a letter to Dumbledore, requesting more productive detentions."

"Oh, yes, do that_,_" he drawled ironically. "'_Dear Dumbledore, us naughty students would like to request, on behalf of the entire school body, that you make detentions have a productive outcome to ease the psychological torment it brings._' The whole _point _is to annoy us."

"But we might as well help others while we're at it!" I countered.

There was a long silence, and I kept glancing over at Malfoy – my expression pained. Watching him shove the sponge forwards half an inch at a time with the nail of his pinky finger in tiny flinches was unbearable. If he didn't start doing it properly soon I'd dump the soapy water over his head. Images of him howling in pain and rubbing his eyes as soap filled them flooded into my mind, and the left corner of my lip raised involuntarily.

"What's so funny, Granger?" he spat.

"None of your business, Malfoy," I bit back.

He glared at me.

"Tell me," he demanded.

"I don't think so."

"I demand it!"

"I'll make a deal with you;" I said at last, sitting up straight from the floor, "if you stop scrubbing like a wimp, I'll say why I'm smirking. Agreed?" I outstretched a hand, which he glanced down at in disgust. I glared at him, starting my cleaning again, "Fine, then."

"I'm not scrubbing like a wimp," he said plainly.

"Mmhmm," I replied idly, not paying much attention to him.

"I'm not!"

"'Course you aren't."

"_Fine_," Malfoy said at last. "Fine, you tell me why you were smirking and I'll..." he wrinkled his nose, "scrub _more effectively_."

I laughed.

"Alright. I was imagining dumping the soap bucket on your head. Happy now?"

"That's nothing good," he answered.

"Well, you still have to start scrubbing right."

"I expected it to be something better. I wouldn't have agreed if I'd known that _that _was all."

"I _said _it was nothing. Besides, the whole point was _learning _it; if you knew it you wouldn't have had to," I countered. He glared silently. "Just imagine that the floor's me and that you're using the sponge to suffocate me," I sighed. "That ought to help."

Malfoy rolled his eyes, but when I looked back he was scrubbing like a champion.

"You'd make a good steward, Malfoy," Granger laughed, shaking her head.

"And you'd make a good china doll." I sneered at her, noticing her confused expression, "They're _silent_."

"Yeah, well, I don't like the idea of spending the rest of detention without talking to _someone_, and as revolting as you are, you're better than nothing."

"_You're _not."

"Too bad for you, Malfoy," Granger answered matter-of-factly. "We're stuck together for now."

"What I did to deserve _this, _I'll never know," I drawled.

"As I recall it, you ruined a book."

"_I _didn't ruin it; it was _you _who wouldn't let go!"

"_ME?_ You're the one who – "

"Oh, just shut up, won't you?" a new voice called.

It was dim in the potions room, as usual. The were only a few candles, and we couldn't see very far around us. Granger glanced nervously over her shoulder at me, and I looked back at her fearfully.  
"Did you hear that, Granger?" I whispered meekly.

She nodded slowly.

"I think it came from behind us."

Ever so slowly, we turned our heads past the other, further back, curving our backs as we looked behind ourselves. There stood a tall woman, one I'd never seen in Hogwarts before. She had her hair in a ponytail, with a velvet band dipping down in a 'v' at her forehead wrapped around her head. She wore a long, figure-hugging dark blue velvet gown. She was deathly pale, but her hair was midnight black.

"Who exactly are you?" Granger asked, somehow managing to sound calm. I don't know how she did it; it was all _I _could do to keep from screaming. Darn her, that muggleborn. I hate how she makes me admire her gall and insufferable boldness. You shouldn't admire someone who should disgust you. Who _does _disgust you.

"I'm Kryla," she answered, grinning charmingly to reveal teeth so white they were almost glowing. Two prominent fangs caught my attention. "I'm Kryla, and you in particular, pretty, look _delicious_."

She moved like a serpent, wrenching Granger up from the ground by her frizzy mess of hair in almost a blur. I scrambled to my feet as she shrieked, running to the door and fumbling for my wand as I went. I needed to get out of here.

"Oh, but you smell _good..._" I heard the vampress moan softly.

"Keep away from me," Granger screamed angrily as my hand closed on the door knob. I swung it open, my heart pounding in my chest. Every atom of my being was screaming 'RUN! RUN!', but I glanced over my shoulder. Granger had somehow slipped out of the vampire's grip, now across the room from her and dodging the tables and chairs she was flinging at her. She could take care of herself, though. She might be a mudblood, but she was a good witch. Then I saw her wand by the water bucket.

_She can take care of herself, _I told myself as I ran down the stone hall at top speed. _You need to get help_. _Just go get help._

I heard something clash and flinched. I remembered her gall. I remembered how she'd threatened me with a wand, how she'd been bold enough to punch me. I remembered how pretty her laugh was and how much I hated it when she chewed her lip (I shivered at the thought – in revulsion, I'm sure). Hating Granger was different then hating anything else. She made me feel so numb and furious and flushed. But I knew one thing: however I felt about her, whatever my father told me about mudbloods, she didn't deserve to die. She wouldn't die – not if I could stop it.

I swore under my breath. I hardly ever swore, but I thought that now was a moment where I had every right to. I turned around, making my way back in determination as quietly as I could. I had to think fast here, but that was fine. I'm good at thinking fast.

I came to the door and stole a glance inside, watching as Granger flung some random potion at the vampress. Her dark black hair turned orange, but nothing else happened. Kryla raised an amused brow as she approached the muggleborn slowly.

_Think fast, Draco, _I thought urgently. _Think really, _really _fast._

The idea flooded my mind like a dam had been lifted from a river. I grinned, priding myself as I lifted the point of my wand and took in a deep breath.

"_Lumos!_" I called, and a burst of blinding brilliance filled the room.

My heart was pounding so hard I thought it would beat out of my chest. After all I'd been through, after all I'd faced – it would all end here. Here and now, I, Hermione Granger, supposedly smartest witch of my age, would be eaten for lunch. Or perhaps breakfast, since vampires generally woke when night fell and it was hardly past dusk.

There she stood, teeth bared, lips twisted in a terrible smile. I looked around desperately, trying to find something – _anything –_ that I could use to defend myself. But there was nothing, and all I could do was pray that Malfoy would actually get help.

"_Lumos!_" a voice rang out, clear and true.

I called out as light poured throughout the chamber, watching the vampress who had been attacking me shriek and burn. I heard her skin sizzling as she huddled on the ground, curled up. I glanced over my left shoulder to see my savior, thanking anything and everything that I was still alive. I almost died when I saw Draco Malfoy, his wand glowing luminescently.

"_You _saved me?" I stated in disbelief. He rolled his eyes.

"No one deserves to taste _your _dirty blood, Granger. I thought I should spare the vampire the torment," he drawled back.

"By practically killing her?" I asked.

Kryla whimpered.

"Please... no more light..." she pleaded meekly.

Malfoy's wand brightened, and he smirked as she shrieked.

"It's better than tasting _you, _I'm sure," he replied.

I blinked helplessly, feeling so very confused. Gone was the terrified boy I'd seen a few seconds ago – he was cool and cold, looking more comfortable in this position of power than I'd ever seen him. "You saved my life," I stated dumbly.

"Don't make me regret it, mudblood," he spat. I could tell that he was trying to make me lash out at him, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. He'd just saved my life.

"I'd be dead right now if it weren't for you," I said simply.

"_Don't _remind me," Malfoy answered. He flicked his wand and muttered a few words. The light separated from the tip of his wand and hovered in a brilliant, glowing orb. He looked up at it in satisfaction, the words he spoke next as he gazed at his work very idle; he said them as if he couldn't care less, but I thought that there was more to it. "Just don't tell anyone, will you?"

"That you heroically saved me?" I asked in disbelief.

He flinched, as if I'd accused him of something terrible.

"Yes."

"You saved my life."

"I think we've established that, Granger," Malfoy replied sardonically.

I stared at him for a while, and there was perfect silence. I took a deep breath.

"Thank you."

"Don't do that, Granger."

"Do what?"

"Thank me. Just don't. It makes me feel like we're on friendly terms, and I don't like that."

"_Thank you _for saving my life, Draco Malfoy," I replied, grinning. I couldn't resist. He flinched again.

"Shouldn't we do something about her?" he asked, gesturing towards the vampire with his wand. She flinched.

"We should get Dumbledore."

"Oh. _Him,_" Malfoy said, his nose wrinkling. I wanted to snap at him, but held back. I just couldn't feel annoyed with him after he'd just _saved my life_. "Right."

"Please... no more light..." Kryla repeated.

"You don't plan on finishing detention with a vampire, do you?" Malfoy asked, glancing up at me and sneering. "How exactly are we going to do this?"

"Easily," I replied, and stepped out into the dungeon hall before cupping my hands around my mouth, screaming on the top of my lungs. I turned around and grinned at Malfoy. "If that doesn't bring people running, I don't know what will."

I lifted my precious wand from the cold floor and put a body-bind on Kryla, as Draco dimmed the light somewhat – more for our own eyes than out of mercy. We sat in silence, waiting for someone to come for a while, before he caught my eye.

"Really, Granger," he said as sincerely as I've ever heard him speak, "just don't tell anyone."

I laughed, finding it rather absurd. I'd expected him to brag until the end of time about how he boldly defeated a _vampire _single-handedly.

"If it means that much to you," I replied with a shrug. "Fine. I won't tell anyone."

He didn't sigh in relief, but he let out a quiet breath and grew much more relaxed.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." There was another stretch of silence, and I wrinkled my nose after a while. "What's a vampire doing in Hogwarts, anyhow? Don't they have spells and guards to prevent that sort of thing? This reminds me of when that troll got in here back in first year." I shook my head, "The monsters in this school always seem to go after _me_."

"Why don't we ask her?" Malfoy suggested with smirk, standing to his feet, dusting off his robes, and marching up to the perfectly still vampress. "Unbind her mouth, if you can, Granger." I obliged. "Why are you here?" he asked harshly. Kryla hissed in reply. Malfoy raised his wand, "Cru – " he started, then stopped mid word, glancing around nervously. He hadn't meant to say _Crucio, _had he? He couldn't possibly _know _that spell, could he? "Is there any veritaserum here?" Malfoy asked.

"That's illegal, Malfoy," I answered darkly.

"Do you want to know or not? Are you _scared, _Granger?" he sneered. "So tell me, is there any veritaserum here?"

"I don't know," I answered after a long pause; he crossed his arms mockingly and looked about to say something more, but I cut him off. "But I can look." I went up to Professor Snape's desk and started shuffling through the drawers; a vial of amortenisa from his senior class, unicorn horn dust, a few miscellaneous potions... no veritaserum so far. I glanced up at Malfoy, who was pacing uncomfortably. "Why don't you look in the cabinets?"

He opened his mouth as if to protest before nodding curtly. I turned back to the desk; a few letters, quills, a vial of ink... wait a second. I grinned, lifting the vial and swishing it triumphantly.

"I've got it, Malfoy," I said. He turned towards me, a brow raised. He scoffed and laughed when he saw it.

"And people actually think you're _smart_," he sneered. "That's not – "

I glanced at him meaningfully; "Draco, if you look more closely you'll see. I remember now; Professor Snape told me he kept this stash of veritaserum in that drawer."

Malfoy wrinkled his nose in disbelief.

"Why would he tell _you _that, Granger?"

"Because I'm his favorite student, of course," I replied matter-of-factly. His face was confused for half a second, before understanding spread across his expression. I turned to the vampress, smiling in what I hoped was an unnerving manner. "Alright, Kryla. Do you know what this is?" She glared up at me defiantly. I kneeled in front of her, gazing at the vial of ink and sloshing it back and forth. "This is veritaserum. A _truth _potion." I turned and met her eyes. "That means that whatever you say will be the truth. And you won't be able to keep quiet, either. The words will rip themselves from your throat." I leaned forwards, "And it won't feel good, Kryla. It will _hurt_. I'm warning you, at this moment, I will give you a chance to explain yourself. All I'm asking for is an explanation, and then Malfoy back there will dim the light a bit. Keep quiet and we'll bring this into the equation." I smirked, "And believe me, you don't want that."

"You should listen to her," Malfoy added smoothly, his voice a dripping with calm, cool, elite power. He placed a hand on my shoulder and sneered at the vampress on the floor as he stood tall. "I've seen what happens to those who get on the wrong end of _her _wand, Kryla. It's _not _pretty. Isn't that right, Granger?"

"Oh, I find it _very _attractive," I replied, keeping my eyes locked on the vampire.

"I suppose it's all a matter of perspective," Malfoy shrugged.

Kryla glared at us for a few seconds before opening her mouth.

"You're Potter's friend, aren't you? Granger. _Hermione _Granger," she asked. I blinked in surprise and was about to respond, but the ferret didn't give me the time.

"_We're _asking the questions, vampire. You answer."

He flicked his wand and the light brightened. Kryla shrieked and held up her hands over her face.

"I was invited!" she screeched. "A student invited me!"

"_What?_" I called. "You – _what? _Who?"

"What is she talking about?" Malfoy asked.

"A vampire can only enter a house if they are invited," I explained. "I hadn't remembered that until – "

"What exactly is going on here?" came Professor McGonagal's voice. "What's all this – oh my." She stopped dead in her tracks, and Malfoy whirled around. I stood to my feet.

"She attacked us, Professor," I explained. "She said a student – "

"Is that a lumos spell?" McGonagal asked, noticing the floating orb of light. "Clever, that."

"Professor, she says someone let her in here. She says that she was _invited,_" I pointed out urgently.

Professor McGonagal's eyes flicked left and right, and she nodded curtly.

"I'm going to expect a full explanation from the both of you," she said, "but for now, return to your dormitories while I take care of her." I nodded, and Malfoy and I headed for the door. "And don't think that you've gotten out of detention, either of you," the professor added.

"Of course, Professor," I said as I continued down the hall.

"Granger," I heard Malfoy say. I whirled around curiously. "You'd make a good interrogator."

"Do you honestly think that that's something I want to hear?" I asked.

"No," he smirked. "But I didn't want to hear that I'd make a good steward, either."

"Oh. Good for you, then."

I turned sharply on my heel, starting down the hall with a fire in my step.

"_Alright, Kryla. Do you know what this is? This is veritaserum. A truth potion. That means that whatever you say will be the truth. And you won't be able to keep quiet, either. The words will rip themselves from your throat. And it won't feel good, Kryla. It will hurt. I'm warning you, at this moment, I will give you a chance to explain yourself. All I'm asking for is an explanation, and then Malfoy back there will dim the light a bit. Keep quiet and we'll bring this into the equation. And believe me, you don't want that."_

Who knew Granger was capable of _that? _I smirked just thinking about it. The gleam in her eyes, her smooth, elegant posture. I wondered if she enjoyed it. It probably would get under her skin if she did – she was, after all, one of the 'good guys' in her mind. If she enjoyed doing _that _sort of thing it couldn't bode well at all.

Whether or not _she _liked it, I most certainly did. It was quite a show to watch, seeing goody-goody Hermione Granger go all slick, evil, and sexy. The way she smiled and her eyes narrowed, the way she gazed at the vial and sloshed the "veritaserum" ink – which was simply a brilliant idea on it's own – was absolutely—

I stopped dead in my tracks, my sly smile vanishing. I took in a deep breath, calming myself to the best of my ability as I pressed a hand on the cold, stone wall. _What was I thinking?_

I started searching for the nearest bathroom so I could go puke.

I was more than a little surprised when I walked right into Granger again.

"OW!" we called simultaneously.

It took me a few seconds to recognize her, a sly smirk growing on my lips as I rubbed my head.

"_Quite _the dramatic exit, Granger. What are you still doing in the dungeons?"

She glanced around, pursing her lips as she searched for the words.

"I... um..." she knelt down nervously and picked up a quill from the ground. I could have sworn that it hadn't been there before. "I forgot my favorite feather. But I've found it now, and I'll just be going..."

Granger slid to the side, starting off down the hall.

"For someone who can lie about truth potions you're pretty bad at it in normal life," I drawled. "You weren't even over here before; you couldn't have dropped the quill in this corridor. So why are you still down here?" I sneered, "Spying for Potter, are you?"

"Of course I'm not!" Granger bit back, leaning forwards angrily. "I'm going back to my common room. Now if you don't mind..." she stepped to the side and started down the hall leading to the Slytherin common room. I raised a brow and stepped after her. "Why are you following me, Malfoy?" she growled, not even bothering to look at me as she clenched her fists angrily.

"_I'm _just going back to _my_ common room. Where are _you _going?"

She stopped dead, her eyes wide. I laughed at how silly she looked.

"You're lost, Granger! Admit it!" I called triumphantly.

"I am not!" she countered defensively. But I'd seen the way she'd flinched, the flash in her eyes – she didn't know where to go. I raised a brow, and she sagged slightly. "So maybe I am, a little. But I'll find my way."

"You're not even going to ask for my help?" I drawled as she stalked off in the opposite direction she had been going before. She stopped still.

"You wouldn't give it. You'd laugh, you'd sneer, but you wouldn't help."

"Are you so very _sure _of that, Granger? I'll tell you right now that you're heading for Professor Sprout's stash of devil snare. You _need _directions."

She whirled around with her lips in a firm, straight line and arms crossed gruffly.

"Fine then. Which way do I go?" she asked curtly.

I clicked my tongue patronizingly.

"Come now, Granger. Don't you know about _manners?_"

Her eyes flashed dangerously as she glared at me.

"Tell me the way _please,_" she mocked at last.

"No," I replied with a smirk, turning around and started back on my way.

"I win!" she called.

I paused, turning halfway around to examine her skeptically.

"Exactly how so, Granger?"

"I told you so. I was _right. _You wouldn't help," she answered, almost hottily as she stuck up her chin.

"You're just trying to get me to, aren't you?" I replied smugly, crossing my arms. "You think that if I thought you thought you'd won that I'd think I should show you the way so that you'd think you'd lost, don't you?"

Granger started chewing her lower lip, and I felt the familiar fire fill my chest to the brim. Watching her teeth fiddle with her makeup-less lip gave me the terrible urge to slam her against the wall and do... something. Like strangle her. _Slowly_.

"Something like that," she sighed at last.

"Well played," I replied. "This way, Granger."

I could almost feel her surprise as she shrugged it off and followed me. I was a little surprised myself. But it never hurt to keep her on her toes. And it wouldn't do to save her life and then have her killing herself in the dungeons.

Which brings me to the whole 'I saved her life' thing. Why exactly _had _I? She's a filthy little mudblood, for Merlin's sake. But she was a _clever _filthy little mudblood. I'd probably miss throwing insults her way, because unlike most people (namely Potter), she was such a _challenge _to provoke. Not only that, but only she fought back with any sense of _style _(again, very _un_like Potter. I mean _really; _launching one's self down the stairs to tackle someone is not only inelegant, but simply idiotic).

I'm ignoring the other thought that's still echoing in my mind. Over and over, _she doesn't deserve to die_. But I'm not listening.

We made our way through the dark in disappointing silence. I'd rather hoped for some banter. But you can't have everything, I suppose.

"Alright, Granger," I said at last, pointing the way to go. "Up those steps and through the arch and you're out of dungeons. I'm going back to my dormitory."

I turned to go, but she called out before I could.

"Malfoy?"

"What?"

Oh no. I knew that look on her face. The slight abashment, the eyes almost downcast, the minute smile – she wasn't! Not again! I don't think I could take it...

"Thank you, for showing me the way, and for stopping the vampire. I appreciate it."

I flinched. People hardly ever had reason to thank me. It felt so odd hearing those words pass her lips. Was I being _nice _to her? _Merlin forbid!_

"Savor it sweetly, Granger. It's not happening again," I sneered.

She smirked and shook her head before starting up the stairs.

"Malfoy through and through," I heard her mumble in amusement.

If my father found out that I'd saved a _mudblood's _life...

...A mudblood who managed to seem very, very pureblooded when she was interrogating vampires...

...A very, very _witty _mudblood...

...WHO I HATE WITH EVERY FIBER OF MY BEING...

...Who won't stop chewing her bloody lip...

…Who keeps getting on my nerves...

Oh, shut it, brain. I'm going to sleep.

…_.Keep quiet and we'll bring this into the equation. And believe me, you don't want that.... _Her voice echoed softly in my mind....

OUT OF MY HEAD, GRANGER! _OUT!_


End file.
